Batman: Crimson
by Severina310
Summary: Selina Kyle returns to Gotham with her sights set on a big score. On the night of robbery, everything goes wrong. Batman and Catwoman team up to untangle a criminal web that leads them from Gotham to Bludhaven and beyond.
1. Author's Notes

Author's Notes:

Hello all! After several smutty PWP one-shots I decided to try my hand at something longer that has an actual plot! At least, I think it has a plot.

I've been working on this story for a long time - almost 2 years. It's finished. I'm really proud of that because I have a tendency to start things and never finish them. But I actually did it!

This is how I plan to publish this story: Today, Jan. 1, 2015, I will publish the author's notes and the first chapter. Then every Sunday I will upload a new chapter until the story is finished. (There are 24 chapters.)

Three things:

- Batman/Catwoman (BatCat!) story

- There will be some smut so if you're under 18 you should not read this

- I don't own anything!

I'd like to thank my husband for his support and blackbatpurplecat dot tumblr dot com for being a tireless source of support (and for tolerating my annoying messages!)

My Batman takes a lot of inspiration from the Animated Series, the comics (mostly Pre-Nu52), and the video games.

Enjoy!


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

He slid the black Samsonite carry-on into the overhead bin, clicked the plastic latch closed, and settled into his seat with a sigh. Another international flight, another wicked case of jet lag and a digestive tract that wouldn't be right for days. Heading up the European base of LexCorp Worldwide had perks but quarterly conferences in various parts of the world was not one of them. This quarter, the conference was to be held in Gotham. There was nothing worse than leaving his adopted Parisian home for the gritty, dark, always overcast piece of Americana that was Gotham City.

Sighing again, he counted to three before pulling his iPad from his bag. Flight time meant catching up on the massive backlog of unanswered emails clogging up his inbox (342 in all). He hated email. He should have been born in the days before email, or at least born in the days before you had to cc everyone in the damn company just to answer a question about pens.

To: John Sanderson

From: Paul Levinson

CC: Dept - Finance - All

_John,_

_Harrison has asked that-_

"Excuse me. That's my seat." The feminine voice was clear and confident. The flirtatious notes in her speech danced through the air and curled around his ear drums. He looked up. Long blonde hair. A rosebud mouth painted ruby red. Wire rimmed glasses framing two bright emerald eyes. Eyelashes thick as a forest fluttered as their gazes locked.

"I'm 4A," she said, gesturing toward the window seat.

"Sorry," he sputtered, getting up so she could slide into the seat next to him. Her black pencil skirt rode up an inch above her knees when she sat down. She wasn't wearing a wedding ring. "You're American."

"So are you," she said, her lips plump and parted. With a touch, the iPad screen went dark. Those emails could wait.

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Seven hours flew by as they talked and flirted, their interaction lubricated by expensive airline food and overpriced drinks. His lovely seatmate Katerina was a Gotham-based jewelry buyer for Lord & Taylor returning home after Paris Fashion Week. She was funny, gorgeous, and available. He was beginning to think he was in love.

"If you're free sometime this week - " he began as they gathered their belongings after landing.

"Maybe," she grinned. Alcohol threw off his balance as he tried to lean on the armrest and he missed it by a mile. His jacket slipped off his lap and onto the floor.

"Here," she giggled, handing it back to him. "Good thing neither of us is driving. We're both over the legal limit." He smiled sheepishly.

Walking down the boarding ramp together, he tried to grab her hand and hold it tight. Pulling away, she giggled again and expertly masked a drunken stumble.

"That was good for a girl in heels," he teased.

"One of my many talents." Her voice was low, seductive.

"Let me check in with the office and then we can continue this conversation-" he said as he reached for his phone. The pocket of his bag where he kept his electronics felt strangely roomy. Looking down, he saw his phone but his iPad was gone. "Uh oh."

"What?"

"I must have left my iPad on the plane. I'll be right back." He hurried back toward the ramp. When he emerged 15 minutes later, Katerina was gone.

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"Where to?" the surly cabbie asked as she slid into the backseat.

"Uptown Marriott." He nodded and hit the gas. She ran a hand through her short black hair. The blonde wig and wire rimmed glasses were at the bottom of a bathroom trashcan where she'd ditched them before heading out into the Gotham smog. Wigs always started to itch after a few hours but they were necessary in her line of work.

Her flirtation with seat 4B had resulted in $5000 in cash lifted from the wallet in his jacket pocket and one brand new iPad. Not bad for seven hours of work. As a rule she didn't work on planes - too much risk and nowhere to run - but rules are made to be broken. Business men never learned not to flash their cash around when trying to impress a woman and John Sanderson was too good to pass up.

"You from around here?" the cabbie asked.

"Just here on business," she lied as she leaned back against the worn leather seats. The dirty brick buildings flickered by like a slideshow as the cab sped along the expressway, the dark architecture of Gotham welcoming her home. She looked toward the rooftops, so different in the daylight, and the memory of her last night in the city filled her thoughts. Cold rain, wet skin, hot lips against her neck. She flushed.

Cracking the window open to allow the cool October air to soothe her burning skin, the corners of her mouth twitched into an uneasy smile. After a year away from her city, Selina Kyle was finally home.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The dull thud and thwack of fists hitting the sandbag echoed through the cave. Tape tore off his hands in pieces as he landed blow after blow, his mind blank as his body operated on muscle memory alone. After spending nights in the city with all his senses on high alert and every synapse in his brain firing at full capacity, it felt good to turn it all off and just let his body work.

Gotham had been quiet for the past two nights. Quiet unnerved him. It set his teeth on edge and wound his muscles into tight, taunt strings sensitive as a mousetrap. He waited for the moment it would all fall apart The next heist, the next murder, the next plot to destroy the city. It would come. He'd be ready.

"Sir? I believe there is something over here you need to see," Alfred said, his voice snapping Bruce back to reality. Back from the blankness of the workout, his raw knuckles started screaming. He'd taken the skin off his left hand again.

"I'm not hungry," he said, flexing his hands. Nothing broken, just bruised. He'd gotten off easy today.

"Though I have been known to work wonders, oatmeal remains oatmeal. However, the image on your computer will prove far more intriguing." It was then he heard beeping coming from the batcomputer. Jogging up the stairs, he grabbed his coffee from Alfred's tray and headed toward the massive machine. Blood clotted on his hand. Alfred sighed audibly.

"What fake extreme sport did Bruce Wayne partake in to injure himself this time? Brazilian hot boxing? Andean free-style rock climbing? Nude coral reef diving?"

"Funny," Bruce said as he slid into his chair.

"A laugh a minute, Sir." Alfred was at his side with gauze and antiseptic before he could blink. Sometimes he swore that man was faster than he was.

Bruce hit a few keys and a grainy black and white still of a blonde woman wearing wire rimmed glasses filled the screen. There was no need to look at the notification flashing beneath the image, he knew. His body knew. His heart sped up, his groin tightened, and he was back on that rooftop - his hands lightly gripping her hips as she straddled him, rain drenching both of them, the scent of wet leather and sweat hanging in the air.

Catwoman.

_Selina._

Shaking his head, he forced himself to focus on the task at hand. There was no proof that this woman was Catwoman and he needed to avoid jumping to conclusions. He needed to focus on the evidence. Evidence is solid, concrete, reliable. Evidence does not lie. It's not subject to whims and emotions - it merely is or isn't. If justice is his overarching goal, evidence is the trail that leads him there.

The batcomputer runs facial recognition software across a hacked network of strategically-placed security cameras spread throughout the city. The software compares faces caught on tape with any mugshots or images in his files marked "active", "missing", or "whereabouts unknown". If a possible identification is made (a 96% probability of a match is required to trigger the system), the image is flagged and a notification is sent to the user. This image, taken at Gotham International Airport, was showing a 99% probability of belonging to Selina Kyle. He glanced at the time stamp - 7:36 a.m. Forty-eight minutes ago.

According to his intel, since her hasty departure from Gotham 11 months ago, Selina Kyle had lived in no fewer than six countries - Denmark, Portugal, France, Germany, Switzerland, and Italy. He pulled up the FAA's list (hacked) of international flights arriving in Gotham. Twenty-six arrivals since 6 a.m. ET, 14 of which were from Asia and automatically ruled out as possibilities. That left him 12 flights to sort through. Knowing Selina's taste for the finer things in life, he allowed himself to discard passengers listed in economy. One flight from London and another from Amsterdam were ruled out as all the names on the first class passenger manifests were decidedly male-sounding and Selina preferred hyper feminine names. He scanned the rest.

Unsurprisingly, none of the names listed were her known aliases. Selina was smart, she changed identities more frequently than shoes. It's one of the myriad of reasons the authorities had such a hard time tracking her down. He scanned the names again, looking for something, anything, that would signal she'd come home.

His mouse hovered over a name. Katerina Kline, seat 4A, flight 2363 Paris to Gotham direct. It felt like her. He brought his fingertips together and placed them against his lips.

"Alfred, hand me a burner phone." A cheap, disposable cell phone appeared on the console. He dialed and waited.

"Air France customer service, this is Monique how may I help you?" A woman. Perfect. He almost smiled.

"Hi Monique," he said in a bright, cheerful voice. It was a voice Bruce Wayne used often. "I was on flight 2363 from Paris to Gotham this morning and I reported some personal items missing. I was calling to see if anything had been turned in?"

"Let me check. Your name?" He glanced at the manifest.

"John Sanderson. Seat 4B." Soft clicking and the buzz of an open line filled the few seconds of silence.

"Oh, yes, Mr. Sanderson, I have your report right here. Unfortunately it doesn't look like we've found your missing items as of yet."

"Did I list my watch on there?" He leaned his head back and looked at the craggy roof of the cave. His shoulders were tingling, just like they always did when a hunch started to pan out.

"No. Are you missing that as well?"

"Yes, I - oh, wait! No, I'm not. Sorry, I have it right here. I swear, this jet lag will be the end of me!" he laughed, a charming hint of embarrassment in his voice. No one could get mad at that intonation. Bruce Wayne knew that from experience. "Can we go over my list quickly? I want to make sure I'm not forgetting anything else. Like my brain." Monique laughed on the other end of the line, her voice tinny. She liked him, just as he intended.

"I show you're missing an iPad and $5000 in cash. No brain listed," she joked. He chuckled a deep, throaty chuckle that meant that he liked her, too. He could feel her blush through the phone.

"You may want to check again, I'm pretty sure I lost it over the Atlantic." She laughed again. When she was finished he allowed the silence to stretch. "Well. Thank you, Monique. Please do call at the number I provided earlier if anything turns up." She said goodbye and he snapped the burner closed, Bruce Wayne's charm disappearing once more.

"Has the cat come back?" Alfred asked, taking the phone from Bruce.

"Nothing definitive, but it all lines up. If there's anything Catwoman likes more than jewels, it's cash. Her seatmate is short several grand." He fell silent again, his eyes glued to the blonde woman on the screen. "Why, Alfred?"

"Sir?"

"She didn't get on that plane to rob Sanderson, not for a score that small. That was opportunity. There's got to be something else."

"If I may be so bold," Alfred said, handing Bruce an invitation from the stack of mail he'd brought down with breakfast. "Shall I RSVP?"

Bruce looked at the invite and shook his head. He should have known.

"Absolutely."


	4. Chapter 3

Author's note - thank you to everyone who has subscribed and/or left a review!

Chapter 3

Exclusive events always brought out the who's who of Gotham high society in droves, and tonight was no exception. They filtered about the room like bejeweled hummingbirds, thin flutes of expensive champagne clutched in their manicured hands. As always, many of the women in attendance had pulled out all the stops in the accessories department. Too bad she wasn't in the market for a piece of audaciously expensive jewelry. Not tonight, anyway. Tonight she had her eye on a bigger score.

The museum was previewing its new gem and mineral exhibit featuring some of the most valuable stones in the world. Sapphires, emeralds, and diamonds were displayed about the room, each gem high on clarity and perfectly cut and set. Each would fetch a fortune on the black market. But she had her sights set on something more exquisite than a simple emerald or diamond. She was after something she'd only read about, something some in her profession believed to be the sparkly equivalent of the Loch Ness monster. Directly in the middle of the room, surrounded by overly-perfumed people gesticulating excitedly, sat the Queen's Ruby.

Roughly the size of a man's fist and deeper red than arterial blood, the Queen's Ruby was valued at close to $20 million. It was part of an anonymous private collection and hadn't been displayed publicly in over fifty years. Even from this distance, it was everything she'd imagined and more. If her operation went as planned, the ruby would be out of the country by morning.

Blending into the outskirts of the crowd, she pulled out her phone and pretended to text while taking discreet pictures of the cameras lining the ceiling and the positioning of each of the jewelry cases. Even with her recon and weeks of advance planning, tonight would be tricky.

Due to its rarity as an exhibit, the Queen's Ruby was subject to intense international and domestic press coverage, making it a target for every thief and hustler for a hundred miles. In turn, the security in the wing would be increased by at least thirty percent. Of the seven guards in the room, Selina pegged three as temporary hires - the temps always gave themselves away with their nervous glances and uneasy fidgeting. She'd wager on another two temps in the security control room in addition to the regular staff.

She mentally catalogued the room as she took pictures - there were six visible cameras. Judging by the layout of the space, these cameras weren't large or powerful enough to capture the whole room without significant blind spots, meaning there had to be at least four cameras she couldn't see. The room also contained a focused light motion sensor system built into the walls. When enabled, this system created a complicated web of infrared beams crisscrossing the room. The alarm would be triggered if anything blocked a beam from meeting its designated light receptor. It would take precision, patience, and damn good gymnastics to clear the web without breaking any of the beams. Her fingers itched. This would be a challenge. Challenges like these are what she lived for.

The Batman was the wildcard. The one factor she couldn't predict or calculate for. He'd be watching, she knew, but when? Where? If all went well she wouldn't meet him tonight. She wouldn't find herself on a rooftop with him, the late October air heavy with the spicy scent of fall, his perfect lips casting intriguing shadows across his strong chin.

"No interest in the exhibit?" The voice came from her right. It was easy, playful. She wasn't surprised by the attention, considering she'd opted for her tightest black cocktail dress and highest stiletto heels. But tonight was not about catching the eye of another mark. The unexpected windfall from her seatmate had already paid for her trip.

Turning to the owner of the voice, her excuses died on her lips. She was face to face with none other than Bruce Wayne. Broad shoulders and narrow hips draped in a smartly tailored dark grey suit, a blue-grey silk tie chosen to highlight his ice blue eyes, a pair of silver Tiffany cufflinks at his wrists. Those simple, vintage cufflinks were worth roughly $3,000. The newly-minted social media billionaire circulating through the crowd was wearing a watch worth $200,000, yet Bruce Wayne, the wealthiest man in the room, opted for subtly. Expensive without being flashy, elegance without pretense. Old money to his very core. It was a look she liked.

"On the contrary. I have quite an eye for beautiful things." Their eyes met as she tucked her phone into her clutch. Before snapping the clutch shut she sent the pictures of the room to her computer, which would automatically overlay them onto a blueprint of the building using a program she wrote. Within an hour she'd have an interactive map of the room, including duct work and security systems.

"We have that in common," he drawled. There was nothing subtle in the way his eyes roamed her curves. She hadn't planned on working at the party, but she did love all things vintage. And handsome billionaires. Lifting his cufflinks might be fun. "Join me for a drink?"

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Drinks in hand, they made their way to an empty exhibit room containing several uncut gems from around the world. She took pleasure in knowing she could take every stone in this room tonight if she wanted. It would be easy. But she'd never done things easy.

"I'd ask if you come to these things often, but given I've never seen you around before..." he said, his right hand settling at the small of her back as they walked slowly around the room.

"I'd ask if you know everyone in Gotham but I'm pretty sure you'd answer me with some line about always remembering a woman like me," she quipped.

"What makes you think it would be a line?" he asked, smiling. It surprised her.

According to every gossip site in town Bruce Wayne is a womanizer with more looks than brains who loves three things: Parties, booze, and women. He's immature, self-absorbed, and a borderline alcoholic. Given all the rumors about his behavior, Selina always found it odd that he'd never been busted for a DUI or caught on video doing cocaine in some overdecorated bathroom.

"What happened there?" she asked, nodding toward a bandage across the knuckles of his left hand.

"I - have you ever gone scuba diving near a coral reef?" he asked. She tried not to notice how blue his eyes were, how high his cheekbones. He was handsome in that classic way - square, rugged, masculine; all chin and cheekbone, closely shaved skin and tantalizingly plump lips. The light scent of his expensive cologne teasingly brushed her nose. He smelled male, virile, sexy.

"I thought they made you wear gloves."

"I'm not one to follow the rules. Much to my own detriment."

In a dark corner, they stopped in front of a large geode teeming with amethyst. A single spotlight illuminated the rock, allowing the untamed gems to shimmer like the city at night. Setting her drink down, she grabbed his hand and ran her thumb lightly over the bandages.

"You're a rebel," she said, voice low, playful, reverberating with sex. It was usually part of the con. Tonight the lust on her lips tasted real. He set his drink down.

"Am I?" he asked, his voice dropping from the cheerful, smooth tones he'd been using into something rougher. He was in her personal space, backing her against the wall. His full lips closed over brilliantly white, perfectly straight teeth. Movie star teeth. "And you?"

"Now Mr. Wayne, I'm a good girl," she said, implying everything but. Her back hit the wall and her hands flew to his chest. She ran her hands across him and down his arms. "Maybe you can show me just how good bad can be."

Their lips met. He tasted clean, with no trace of alcohol on his tongue. Normally a kiss from a mark was something to be endured. Tonight it was something to be enjoyed, savored, and catalogued in her memory. The way he kissed made her almost willing to give him anything. Suddenly she wished things were different, wished they were normal people who met the way normal people meet - in a bar, at a coffee shop - somewhere where vintage cufflinks weren't more important than his hands on her body.

Deja vu set her off balance. The way he made her heart pound, made her knees weak, the way he gripped her shoulders as he pinned her against the wall with his hips... She'd done this before, she'd kissed him before, she'd swear on it had she not known better.

"Leave with me," he murmured as he pulled her flush against him. There was something different in his voice, something dark. Something eerily familiar.

"I-" she gasped as he gently nipped the flesh of her neck. She tried to tease him and push him away like she would with any other mark. She couldn't. She didn't want to leave his arms. His fingers trailed lightly along her spine as she shuddered against him. She hadn't felt desire like this in a long time. Not since that night on the roof-

"Bruce? Are you in here?" Veronica Vreeland's voice rang out from the doorway. They broke apart and their eyes locked. His eyes teemed with intelligence, with lust, even a little rage. This was not Bruce Wayne, playboy billionaire. He was someone else, someone different. Someone familiar.

"Yeah, Ronnie. I'm here," he called out as he broke eye contact. She turned to leave but he caught her arm. "You never told me your name."

"I know." Picking up her glass, she walked past Veronica Vreeland with her head high and her hips swaying seductively. Once she was out of sight, she wiped her wine glass clean of fingerprints, set it on a table, and walked into the night.


	5. Chapter 4

Quick note - Thanks to everyone who is reading this story! And my apologies for any typos. I don't have a beta and no one has read this (other than me!) before I post it. I've read it about a million times but I still miss stuff. Thanks for your patience :)

Chapter 4

If there was one constant he could rely on, it was that all plans involving Selina Kyle would go awry. Upon seeing her use her phone at the museum, he decided to utilize experimental WayneTech technology to clone her cellphone. The program worked up to 6 feet away; he could have stood a reasonable distance from her and let the tech do its work. Instead, he spoke to her. He flirted with her. He kissed her.

It'd gone too far; pushing her against the wall, her crimson-tipped fingernails lightly dragging along his tie and down his arms. She made his blood burn with her soft, pliable lips; her mouth tasting of sweet wine, her body warm against his. Of course, when it was over, he was missing his cufflinks.

Such a stupid thing for him to do. He hadn't needed to kiss her to get the information he wanted - her cellphone pictures of the room were exactly what he expected to find. He knew better. He knew he knew better. And he did it anyway.

When they'd pulled apart, he watched confusion flicker across her features as she stared into his open face. She recognized him. She didn't know who she recognized, she couldn't place him, but she saw him for what he really was. That was dangerous. Irritated, he slammed his foot down harder on the Batmobile's accelerator.

Losing the cufflinks didn't upset him. No, his anger stemmed from letting his mask slip like some amateur who'd only been in the game a short while. Pulling her to him, relishing once again in the electricity that sparked between them, and then asking her to leave with him - not Bruce Wayne, **_him_**. Unacceptable.

The only explanation he could come up with for his behavior (though not one he was willing to admit to) was that he missed Selina. Missed chasing her across Gotham and watching her graceful form move through the night. He missed their banter - her banter, really, he limited himself to short, mostly monosyllabic replies. He'd missed her warmth and her lips and her scent. Alone in his bed after patrol, on the edge of sleep, he'd find himself thinking of her. Thinking about how she looked at him like she wanted nothing more than to go to bed with him. Thinking about the way she'd sometimes bite his lower lip on the end of a kiss. Thinking about the way her hips felt in his hands as she straddled him in the rain...

Winding roads and thickets of old growth trees gave way to the amber street lights of Gotham. He needed to focus. There was no question that Catwoman would attempt to take the Queen's Ruby tonight. The Batman would stop her because that was his job. Nothing else mattered outside his mission.

"Be advised, silent alarm tripped at 19th and Washington." The police scanner in the Batmobile crackled to life. The address of the museum. He glanced at the clock - 12:13. Early for Catwoman, she's usually an after one a.m. kind of girl. She must have anticipated his early arrival.

The back wheels skidded and screeched as he turned left onto 19th street. Museum ETA in 43 seconds. He was out of the Batmobile and halfway up the side of the building before it dawned on him - Since when does Catwoman trip silent alarms?

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With the grace of a ballet dancer she carefully twisted her body around the motion sensor beams. Undetectable to the naked eye, the beams burned red through the enhanced lenses of her goggles. Even with the slow, precise movements required to navigate the infrared beams, this was easier than expected. At this pace, she'd have the ruby and be back in her hotel in approximately 27 minutes. With a final twist of her hips she reached the Queen's Ruby.

Like the other gems in the room, it was softly illuminated to enhance its beauty. Selina's brow furrowed. Something was off, it wasn't refracting the light properly. Suddenly, the motion sensor beams surrounding her shut off. Cold began to spread across her shoulders. This wasn't right.

"Stop right there." Her eyes closed as gooseflesh broke out along the back of her neck. Him. It was always him.

"Well, well. My first night back in town and look who decided to pay me a visit. I'm flattered," she purred as she turned to face him. "Have you missed me, handsome?"

And he was handsome. As handsome as she remembered - big, broad, a monument to modern athleticism and the latest in body armor technology. He always took her breath away and tonight was no exception.

"You tripped the silent alarm," Batman said, as he wrapped his cape around his body like a shroud.

"Honey, I don't trip silent alarms. Besides, that's impossible in this room." He cocked his head to the side as he studied her and tapped something on the side of his cowl.

"There was a call on the police scanner about a silent alarm at this address. But my sensors aren't picking up anything coming from the building." The cold that had settled in her spine wrapped itself around her throat. This was all wrong and they both knew it.

"We've got to get out of here," she said, the ruby catching her eye again. There was something off about it, something she couldn't quite put her finger on...

"Agreed."

"Wait..." She crouched down to examine the stone.

"Leave it!" he growled.

"It's fake."

He froze, his cape rustling. In seconds he was at her shoulder.

"We've got two minutes and fourteen seconds before the police arrive," he said.

"See how the light isn't refracting properly on the left side? And the color is off?" He examined the case as she talked. "These flaws wouldn't have been noticeable had this case been lighted properly."

"How do you mean?"

"The lights are only coming from the sides. In a typical gem case, the lights are positioned at the top, bottom, and the sides. It enhances the cut and clarity. And the sparkle, of course."

"Someone's already been here. The security sensors for the glass have been eaten through." He pointed to a barely noticeable gap in the discreetly hidden wires. Producing a clean cotton swab and empty test tube from his utility belt, he took a sample of the corroded material left behind.

"How? There wasn't time for anyone to break in."

The sound of glass shattering drew their attention. A small black ball fell from the broken skylight. A grenade.

"Down!" Batman yelled as he pulled his cape up to shield them. And then the world went white.


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Reality was fuzzy. Everything was blurred with soft-focus edges, like a photo filter or impressionist painting. Large gruff hands smelling of motor oil bruised the flesh on her upper arms as they pulled her off the floor and forced her kneel. An explosion, they'd been knocked back. They. Batman. Gotham. The ruby. Her thoughts cleared. Had she lost consciousness? For how long?

Five figures repelled through the broken skylight as the sound of police sirens howling through the streets grew closer. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Batman had been captured, too. Two nervous men gripped him tightly, their eyes darting between Batman and a woman clad in a red one-shouldered bodysuit. She repelled gracefully down from the broken skylight, her hair flowing behind her like black lava. Steely sapphire eyes and a shock of white hair sprouting from her hairline gave her a cold, unflappable air. A red cat's paw tattoo adorned her upper arm.

"Red Claw," Batman growled.

"Red Claw?" Catwoman asked, doubtful. "Red Claw's not..." She trailed off as the realization hit her. Red Claw was a Kasnian terrorist leader hellbent on restoring the crumbling country to its pre-war glory. Of all the stories about the organization's elusive leader, it had always been assumed Red Claw was a man. Apparently not.

"Well played," Catwoman said with a small amount of begrudging respect. There's no better con than making law enforcement scour the world for someone who doesn't exist.

Red Claw ignored her.

A masked henchman handed Red Claw the ruby. Smiling wickedly, she examined it slowly, turning it carefully in her hands. Eyes narrowing, her smile fell.

"Where is it?" she demanded, kneeing Batman in the gut. "Or do you have it?" She whirled to face Catwoman.

"And here I thought we could be friends," Catwoman quipped. Red Claw punched her in the stomach. "Its fake. Someone beat both of us to the ruby." She was hurt, but not too hurt to taunt the terrorist.

"Fool! You know nothing!" Red Claw snarled as she backhanded her across the face. She tasted police sirens were close now.

"Kill them." Red Claw dropped the ruby and climbed back up the rope dangling from the skylight.

The henchmen moved toward them. Seeing his opportunity, Batman freed himself and took out the two men holding him. Taking advantage of the distraction, Catwoman slipped her captor's grip and took him out with a well-placed leg sweep. Free and outnumbered, Batman and Catwoman glanced at each other. Without speaking but completely in agreement, they began to move. He went high when she went low, he went left when she went right. The men took punches and kicks, caught unprepared by their synchronicity. It surprised them, too - the sheer ease of their teamwork, the awareness of the other, the grace with which they fought together.

In no time the men lay scattered around the floor like discarded dolls. They stared at each other for a moment before he spun on his heel.

"I'm going after Red Claw."

"Good idea."

"No," he said, pulling his grappling gun from his belt.

"No?"

"Stay here."

"Do I look like a Robin to you?" she scoffed. He ignored her and shot his grapple through the busted skylight. She unwound her whip from her waist and followed.

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He chased Red Claw's helicopter as it gained speed and height. Catwoman was close at his heels. He hated how aware he was of her every move - it was a distraction, and distractions could get him killed. There wasn't time to lose her. _Focus_. He clenched his jaw and fired his grapple at the bottom of the helicopter. As it made contact, he felt something tighten around his ankle. It was her whip. She innocently batted her eyes at him as the city fell away below them.

"And you thought I couldn't keep up," she teased.

"I can't work if you dislocate my ankle," he growled. In five simple movements she scaled him like a jungle gym and wrapped her arms around his neck from behind. Having her wrapped around him was going to slow down his reaction time. So was the scent of her perfume.

_Focus,_ the Bat in his head hissed again. No time for human distractions. He is The Bat, The Night, it simply wouldn't do. He focused on the tangible - the temperature had dropped 7 degrees since he'd left the Batmobile. The red-tinged sky told him snow was imminent. Pressing a button, he began to reel in the grapple's cord and pull them towards the helicopter. They were almost at the fuselage when Red Claw's men began to shoot.

They swung wildly, using their momentum and the wind's effect on the bullets to avoid getting hit. It was no use. Catwoman grunted in his ear as a bullet tore into her upper arm. He hissed as he felt lead bury into his thigh.

"There's too many of them!" she cried as one of the henchmen took aim. They were dangling high above heavily forested ground, the city fading as the pilot picked up speed and headed out to sea. Were they close to the Manor? The twisting and turning had thrown off his bearings. Tiny ice pellets hit him in the face and scratched at his exposed skin. If they were to drop, they'd certainly die. Their odds of survival weren't much better if they stayed where they were. Fear clutched at him. Fear for himself and fear for her. Selina. She shouldn't even be here. If he had only confronted her earlier or if Veronica hadn't interrupted them at the gala...

Another bullet whizzed past his head, nicking the left ear of his cowl as it went. He assessed the situation - He could attempt to make the rest of the climb without getting shot again, take out the pilot, and then fight his way through the chopper until he cornered Red Claw. Knowing Red Claw, she would use the distraction of battling her men to get away. Tactically, entering into a contained area without the element of surprise, while wounded, to battle an untold number of armed, trained men was foolish at best and suicidal at worst. His life didn't matter. But Selina's did. He couldn't let her die this way.

"Look!" she cried, gesturing to something serpentine and glittering like black diamonds below the trees. A river.

"Hold on!" They worked in tandem to swing their bodies into position above the river. Or what he hoped was the river.

"Do it!" she cried and he hit the release on the grapple. They hovered for a split second before gravity yanked them toward the ground. Red Claw's men continued to shoot, but they were falling faster than the men could take aim.

He moved quickly as she swung around to his chest. Grabbing his cape and pulling it taunt, he tried to use it as a parachute or wings. It slowed them some, but he'd never intended it to be used at these speeds or for long distances. If he managed to survive, he told himself he'd give the cape an upgrade.

"Don't let go!" he yelled when the river sparkled below them. He could see the current rushing in the moonlight. At this time of year the river was usually a solid sheet of ice capable of breaking most of the bones in their bodies upon impact. Luckily, the last few weeks had been unseasonably warm. He let his cape go and rolled onto his back; his arms firmly clutching her to his chest. They clung to each other as they plunged into the freezing water; darkness enveloping them, claiming them for its own.


	7. Chapter 6

Author's note: BONUS CHAPTER! I realized last week's chapter and this week's were both pretty short. To make up for that, here's a long one.

[Just to be clear - I published chapter 5 AND chapter 6 today! Read both, maybe? ;-) ]

Chapter 6

Hands looped under her arms and pulled. Rocks scraped against her back, her suit left in tatters. She felt cold mud on her skin, ice pellets on her face. Her left arm was on fire.

"Selina?" His voice sounded far away, like he was calling her from the end of a tunnel.

"I'm-" she said as a coughing fit took her.

"Sit up," he said, his gloved hand on her scratched and battered back.

"You sure know how to show a girl a good time," she said, coughing again.

"You're the one who wanted to go for a swim," he said, his voice warming her body. Had Batman just made a joke?

"What can I say? I'm drawn to sparkly things." She smiled at him as he sat back. "Where are we?"

"I think we're near Bristol Township." He grimaced as he straightened out his leg. Nothing, not even the stink of river mud, could mask the coppery scent of the blood coming from his thigh.

"You're bleeding."

"So are you." He tore strips of fabric from his cape. "Give me your arm." Wincing, she held it out for him, pain blooming along her nerves as she moved. He wrapped her wound tightly and tied the fabric off, the force bringing tears to her eyes. Once he was done he started tearing strips of fabric for his leg.

"Let me," she said, putting her hand out. He hesitated, just for a moment, but long enough for her to notice. He didn't trust her. Not that she blamed him. She wrapped his wound and sat back on her heels. "Now what?"

"We walk." He hopped to his feet, an impressive feat for a man who had just taken a bullet to his thigh. "This way."

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She followed him in silence, her eyes glued to his back for fear of losing him in the dark. The snow was starting to pick up, fat flakes interspersed with hard ice pellets that stung her lips. Every ten minutes or so he would glance at the computer screen embedded in his gauntlet and adjust their course.

When they started, he refused to limp and walked through the underbrush like he wasn't wounded. Now, what felt like an hour into their walk, he was beginning to slow, his gait uneven. The pain was getting to him. Other people probably wouldn't have noticed. But other people hadn't made a hobby of studying the way his body moved. She'd forgotten how much she loved to watch him move, watch the power flow through his limbs, the strength evident in every gesture. There was a quiet grace in the way he moved, an amazing feat for a man his size.

Pain stopped any warm feelings from surging through her body. Her arm throbbed to the rhythm of her heart and her feet had gone numb some time ago. The temperature had dropped another 10 degrees since he'd pulled her from the water. She blamed her trembling body on the cold and tried not to acknowledge the nervous fear lingering all around her. If she had just listened to him back at the museum...no. If he hadn't shown up at all she would have had that ruby and been out of there before Red Claw showed up. It was his terrible habit of sticking his pointy nose in her business that led them here tonight.

Of course, even if everything had gone according to plan, the ruby was still a fake. A good fake, a fake that could fetch a couple of grand off the right fence, but a fake. It didn't make sense. If a person was clever enough to steal the ruby before the museum closed for the night, they'd want to take credit. She would, anyway. The bigger question was why a known terrorist like Red Claw would suddenly be interested in jewels. Last she heard, Red Claw was more interested in weapons of mass destruction.

Pushing thoughts of Red Claw aside, she focused on figuring out who had the real Queen's Ruby. This was her score and she'd be damned if someone with some acid and a little bit of luck swiped the gem under her nose.

She shivered again as a gust of north wind his her square in the face, chapping her lips and causing her eyelashes to freeze together.

"Not that I don't love a midnight stroll with a big strong man, but it's a little colder than I'd like," she said, breaking the silence that had lingered between them since they started walking. He stopped and turned to face her. "Maybe we should find shelter? I know a great way to warm both of us up." She would never be too cold or too hurt to flirt with him.

"A few more minutes," he said, continuing through the increasingly heavy snowfall.

Five minutes later, they entered a clearing and he stopped.

"Well?" she asked, coming to stand beside him. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her against his body. She gasped as he tightened his grip.

"Hold on," he said, his voice low and thick. His grapple gun was in his hand and he fired just as the Batplane whizzed overhead. She clung to him, the faint, dark, inviting sent of his sweat around her as they ascended into the plane. He smelled like a man; like testosterone and sex, like calloused hands on silken skin. Like his hands, that long ago night on the roof.

They settled into the plane, he in the front seat, she in the back. The warmth of the plane welcome after the cold of the forest.

"I'll drop you in Gotham..." he trailed off, shaking his head to gather his thoughts.

"Are you ok?" she asked, peering into his seat. Blood. The scent of it filled the cockpit.

"I'm fine, I..." he started before trailing off again, his head slumping forward.

"Shit! How much blood have you lost?" She jumped into his seat, her hands searching out his wound. She applied pressure and looked into his cowled face, the pale pallor of his skin evident on his white lips. "We've got to get you to a doctor."

"No...No doctors. ...Can't..."

"I know a guy. He's discrete. And he owes me one. Tell me how to fly this thing and I'll-"

"Home." The lights on the console started to flash. He'd engaged the auto pilot. His shouldered slumped forward, he was losing consciousness. She couldn't let that happen.

"I know you're not much of a conversationalist, but I need you to talk to me, ok handsome?"

"Hhnnn..." he grumbled, his head slumping forward again.

"Come on, you can do better than that. Tell me again why I should give up a life of crime. That's a good one."

"You won't listen," he snapped, showing he still had some life in him yet.

"Maybe I will. Maybe I'll give it all up and become a photographer." Her knuckles were white from the strain of applying a vice grip to his thigh. She would not let go.

"Funny," he mumbled.

"I'll invite you to my exhibit opening." He didn't respond. "...Batman?" she whispered, terrified. Tears welled in her eyes.

"What would you photograph?" he slurred, his lips somehow paler than before. She didn't know how to answer. Photography wasn't something she'd ever been interested in, she'd just made it up to keep him conscious and talking.

"The Gotham Bridge. I always liked it. I think it was built in 1899?" Words spilled from her lips. She was rambling, she knew, but she didn't care.

"1901," he said, a know-it-all showoff even in disorientation. "It was designed by Amadeus K. Arkham."

"I'm not familiar with him," she said, her hands still gripping his thigh, her eyes never moving from his face. As long as she could keep him talking. "Tell me about him?" To both their surprise, he did.

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The Batplane piloted itself into the cave and touched down smoothly. Alfred stood at the ready, having tried and failed to raise Batman during the flight. Whatever was waiting wasn't good. The cockpit opened.

"He needs medical attention!" Catwoman shouted when she saw him standing there.

"I'm fine," Batman said, standing. Her hands never left his thigh. "I just need-" He passed out. Alfred caught one side of him before he tumbled out of the plane, Catwoman clutching the other. Alfred's calm hazel eyes met fevered green.

"Would you be so kind as to assist me in carrying him to the medical bay?" She nodded. They moved him onto a gurney. Alfred was wearing latex gloves and a surgical mask before she could blink.

"He was shot, he's lost a lot of blood. I think the bullet is still in his leg-" She was babbling, the physical effects of the night starting to set in. Alfred made a mental note of her state before focusing on Bruce. She'd need medical attention after this was over. He pulled Batman's gauntlet off and inserted an IV line, whole blood flowing from the bag into his veins.

"Don't fret, Miss. I'm rather adept at tending to him after his evening excursions," he said, as he expertly removed the suit's armored plating to expose Batman's thigh. The armor had saved him, sending the bullet into the side of his thigh instead of directly into the center. Alfred's thin hands - delicate hands for a man - moved at lightning speed.

"Can I help?" she asked. Glancing up, he was unprepared for what he saw - her worried eyes locked on Batman's slightly parted lips, her fingers lingering almost close enough to touch the skin on his arm. Her mouth was drawn into a worried pout. The concern on her face was real. As was the care in her eyes. He hadn't expected...

"Yes," he began, his voice lost. He cleared his throat. "Put on those gloves and hold this stitch."

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Blood circled the stainless steel drain as she shakily scrubbed her skin clean. The bullet had nicked an artery but it had also saved his life - it had been lodged in his leg and had slowed the blood to a trickle. Had it gone clean through he would have bled out in the forest.

"Miss, you must allow me to treat your wounds as well," Alfred said, gesturing to a clear gurney. It was hard to see...hard to understand what was happening... Batman needed the help, not her. But she was so dizzy. And cold. She hadn't noticed the cold before. Her body shook and she clutched the sink for balance.

"I...what about Batman?...He's hurt..." she said, her knees giving out. Everything was murky. "I can't...will...will he be ok? He has to be ok." She felt metal - the gurney? - on her back. A light shone down on her face.

"Just relax," the accented voice said.

"...just let him be ok.." she whispered before the world went black.


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

_One Year Earlier_

They jumped and twisted, flipped and swung across the glittering city, she leading, he following. It was their way, their dance, their strange flirtation. They craved nights like this, physical exertion fueling heady arousal as they used Gotham as their playground. Even now, after two years of this cat and bat across the rooftops, the giddiness of mutual attraction sent their pulses into overdrive and directed shivers through various parts of their anatomies whenever they crossed paths.

The diamond tennis bracelet tucked safely between her breasts held no real interest for her. There was a profit to be made from fencing it, but her reasons for stealing it were two-fold. One: To keep her skills sharp, and; Two: To get his attention. Pulling a high-profile job and then dodging his attempts to apprehend her was a high unlike any other.

For his part, though he'd never admit it, he looked forward to nights like this. Catching her crawling out of some duct work or doing a swan dive out the window of an "impenetrable" building; watching the delight run through her limbs as she floated from ledge to gutter to flag pole; it stirred a yearning deep within him, a yearning that excited him in ways he barely understood.

"I know you can do better than that," she taunted as she did a somersault off the First National Bank building. Gripping his cape in his fists, he followed, the smallest smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

Landing lightly, she shot him a look that ran down his spine and wrapped around the most primal part of his being. Drizzle fell from the sky, coating every surface, turning the grit on the concrete to a slick mixture of oil and grime. She would come close, close enough that his fingers almost brushed her body, and then jump backwards when he went to grab her. The kicks and punches they threw weren't intended to harm - this was a mutually unacknowledged game to them. This was _fun_.

Cracking her whip half an inch from his nose as she dodged a batarang, she tried to jump to another rooftop. The slick surface betrayed her usually sure-footing and she slipped. He saw his chance. Strong arms wrapped around her waist as he tackled her. The sky opened as they tumbled across the roof, heavy sheets of rain descending like judgment onto the embattled city.

They wrestled for dominance as they rolled through the accumulating water, limbs and breath entangled. When they stilled, she was straddling him, her claws at his throat and his arms pinned beneath her knees.

"Oooh, look what I caught," she said, dragging a claw across his chin, scratching him just enough to give him a sick jolt of pleasure.

"Stop this," he said, surprising himself with his detached, authoritative tone. He certainly didn't feel detached or authoritative. He felt out of control. He felt excited.

"Why? You're exactly where I want you." She leaned down, her lips full and promising as she got closer.

"You could have caught me a dozen times tonight, but you prolonged it. Drew it out. Because you like it. Because it's fun. Because you want this right here," she said, indicating their positioning.

He grunted a wordless reply but he didn't move. She was right. He let her straddle him in the dark because he liked it. Craved it. Needed it.

Driven by her pathological need to see how far she could push him, to see how far she could push them - she took his hand and brought it to her throat, looping his finger through the silver circle on the end of her zipper.

"One little pull. That's all it'll take." Teasing, she sat up and leaned back just enough to cause the zipper to slide down a few teeth.

Her eyes dared him. It wouldn't take any effort at all and she'd be exposed to him, rivulets of rain rolling down her heated skin. It took all the willpower he possessed to stop his hand from pulling the zipper down.

"Too shy?" she asked, gripping his hand. He detected a slight tremble in her fingers as she pushed his hand down, her suit opening as it went. Rain pattered on the roof, the soft roar drowning out the sound of their pounding hearts and their accelerated breathing.

She moved back as he sat up, her knees on either side of his hips. Releasing the zipper, they sat motionless for a long, tense moment before he fisted the fabric of her suit and pulled it from her shoulders. Rain dripped from his cowl as he pushed the fabric aside, her skin breaking out in gooseflesh in the night air. The Bat had left him. He was nothing more than a man alone with a woman in the dark.

Their lips met. The kiss gaining intensity as they abandoned themselves to it, as they allowed themselves to forget who and what they were and just exist in the rain.

They kissed long and deep, bodies pressed together, tongues dancing. Subconsciously, she moved her hips against him as his teeth nipped at her neck, tongue darting out to taste the salty dampness of her skin. Her breath came in short staccato gasps as he kissed her through her bra, his gloved fingers gripping her hips as she bucked against him.

The cups of her bra were pushed aside, the diamond tennis bracelet falling to the roof. Neither noticed. Soft moans filled the air as he sucked on her erect nipples. What they were doing, where they were doing it - none of it mattered. He was so hard for her. The armored protection her wore only accentuated his need to feel her. To feel her, to be inside her, if he could have that - have the sweet friction of their bodies, the scent of them mingling with the rain as her muscles gripped his most sensitive area - he'd never want anything again.

She searched for the clasp or button that would free him from his suit and finally give them both what they'd wanted since the moment they met. To have him inside her, filling every part of her, driving her to the edge as he thrust against her, it's all she wanted. It's all she ever wanted. Her body quivered with need as they dry humped like teenagers in the backseat of a car.

Intellectually, they knew they couldn't have anything outside this moment. They couldn't have anything other than this hot, heavy, moment, their bodies pressed together as bruises bloomed when hands gripped too hard. They couldn't allow themselves to feel. Couldn't indulge in oxytocin-induced fantasies of lazy mornings in bed and nights cuddling in front of a fireplace. That wasn't for people like them. So they would take what they could, seal off their hearts and give each other the only thing they could share - their bodies.

"Yes. Oh, God, yes," she whispered as he flipped her onto her back and pulled the rest of her suit down to her knees. He grunted in agreement against her slender neck and his hand dropped between them to free himself.

He kissed her hard as he fumbled with his suit. Her head spun, body shaking with need and desire. Seconds before he was finally free, sirens sounded in the distance.

He froze.

The Bat returned as the wailing sirens plunged him back into the cold reality of his life. He wasn't just a man anymore. He had a job. A mission. Catwoman felt him tense and she pulled back to look into his face. His mouth was a hard line, the slack of pleasure and desire gone, his shoulders shaking as he fought to get his body back under control.

"We...we can't," he managed as he rose to his knees.

"Right," she said quietly, her body aching with unfulfilled need. She slid away from him as she pulled her clothes back on. They both got back to their feet.

"I-" he said, his voice uncertain.

"I know," she said. She grabbed her whip and jumped from the roof, never looking back. He didn't follow.

Less than 24 hours later, Selina Kyle left Gotham City.


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

_Present Day_

He grimaced as he straightened his leg, anesthesia-laced filaments threatening to pull him back into unconsciousness. This anesthesia was supposed to cut his recovery time by half and get him back on the job quicker. It was still too slow for his liking and would have to be retooled. He added it to his mental to do list along with the cape upgrade.

Concentrating on absolutes always helped wake his brain up so he focused on the immediate - He'd been conscious for 38 groggy, disorienting minutes. Alfred had finished operating on him 3 hours and 3 minutes ago. The detour through the forest combined with the onset of dawn gave Red Claw a six hour head start. The longer he waited, the colder her trail became and the more elusive the answers. He couldn't wait any longer. There was too much work to do.

Forcing himself to stand, he nearly crumpled as pain shot up the left side of his body and lodged itself behind his eyes. A wave of nausea threatened to overtake him as he struggled to keep his feet beneath him.

No, he thought, teeth grinding like steel against pavement as he willed his churning stomach to calm itself. He simply didn't have the time for physical frailties. Fighting through was his only option.

"I see expecting you to rest is as fruitless as always," Alfred said casually as he descended the stairs. "So I will simply say that it is wonderful to see you on your feet again, sir."

Bruce shot him a glare as took his few first unsteady steps. It could be a lot worse - the bullet could have shattered the bone. Again.

As he shook off the rest of the drugs, it all started to come back. Catwoman. In the cave. In _his_ cave.

"Where is she?" he demanded. Alfred arched one thin eyebrow to let Bruce that his rudeness had been noted.

"I assume you are referring to our feline-inspired guest? I provided her with necessary medical attention and she is resting comfortably in the triage center."

"Conscious?"

"No, sir."

"Is she...ok?" he asked, struggling to remember what happened to them after they ascended into the Batplane. Everything after was a jumbled, pain-filled blur punctuated by her low, worried vocal tones. She had been in the pilot's seat with him, that he remembered clearly. That, and blood. Lots of blood. How much of it was hers?

"She's a might bit better than you, I'd say," Alfred said lightly, wisely not commenting on his boss's concern for the leather-clad thief.

"I need to review the recordings from the Batplane," he said as he fought the limp threatening to overtake his gait.

"May I inquire as to why?" Alfred asked, his tone indicating he knew very well why and did not approve.

"She wasn't blindfolded on the way here," Bruce said as he dropped into the chair in front of the batcomputer. The older man's glare of disapproval bored through the back of his skull. "She's a criminal, Alfred. And if she saw something, a threat. To both of us."

"Criminal or no, without her applying pressure to your wound, you might very well be dead right now."

"Two-Face saved my life before, too. When should I ask him over for tea?" Bruce snapped as he pounded the keys harder than he intended. Sometimes Alfred didn't know when to keep his damn mouth shut.

"Last night I watched a severely injured woman put your well-being above her own to ensure you'd live to see another day. She deserves your gratitude, not your suspicion," Alfred said, leaving no room for discussion. He set a cup of coffee beside Bruce and headed back up to the Manor without another word.

Bruce rolled his eyes as he called up the AV file from the Batplane's interior camera. What did Alfred know, anyway? He set the video to fullscreen and pressed play.

Selina's face filled the frame, her mascara smeared as if by an artist's hand, a souvenir of their dip in the river. Messy and disheveled looked good on her. Her gaze, filled with concern and worry, never left his face. Not once.

He watched her on the monitor, his throat tight, and suddenly it was very hard to breathe.

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The electrocardiograph beeped in time with her strong, steady heartbeat. Long eyelashes lay still against her cheeks like soft butterfly wigs. His hand twitched, then stilled, as he suppressed the urge to remove his glove and run his fingers through her thick black hair, her face from the Batplane recording fresh in his mind.

What had she been thinking then? Was the expression simple human compassion for another person? Or was it...more? Could it be more? Could they ever have something beyond what they have now...whatever that was?

It wouldn't be honest to say he never thought of her beyond their encounters on the rooftop. Truth be told he thought of her often, whether it be fantasies of them in bed together or a stray thought about her while entertaining another boring socialite. He even dreamed about her.

The dream was always the same - Entering the Manor's extensive library on a cold morning. Snow fell softly outside as a fire blazed in the fireplace. There, curled up in his favorite leather chair, was Selina. Her black hair was damp, drying slowly with the slightest hint of curl. She was wearing his clothes - an oversized white tee shirt, black sweatpants cinched tight at the waist, white socks. The clothes overwhelmed her body but instead of finding it ridiculous, he found it endearing. Cute. Sexy.

A steaming cup of tea rested in her elegant hands as a small black kitten dozed contentedly on the armrest of the chair. Her face lit up like Broadway when she saw him, her smile dazzling and bright.

It was a moment from a life he wouldn't mind living.

Rustling from behind him broke through his thoughts.

"How much anesthetic did you give her?" he asked without turing around.

"The recommended dosage. Unlike you, most people want to ensure they remain unconscious whilst one removes a bullet from an extremity." Alfred answered, stepping forward to examine the saline solution dripping into her veins via IV.

"How long before she regains consciousness?"

"45 minutes."

Bruce nodded once, turbulent thoughts churning through his mind. Give her more drugs and get her back to her hotel room before she could regain consciousness? Or take his chances and keep her here? Getting her unconscious body into a busy hotel in the middle of the day could pose more of a problem than an awake, alert Catwoman in the Batcave. Or an awake, alert, undeniably sexy Selina Kyle back with him after a year-long absence. God, he'd missed her.

He weighed his options. Neither were good. If only he'd been able to lose her during the chase in the city.

"Let me know when she's conscious," he said, his decision made. Hopefully he didn't live to regret this.


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

_One Year Earlier_

Water dripped onto the scuffed hardwood floors as she entered her apartment. The rain hadn't let up since she'd left him on the roof - getting home had been more treacherous than anticipated due to the poor visibility and seemingly endless acres of slick brick.

Shaking, she slammed the window closed and leaned against the curtains, paying little mind to the water clinging to her suit like a sin. The unshakable tremble in her limbs wasn't from the cold. It was from him. From what they had almost done on that roof. From how angry she was at herself for letting it get that far.

Isis meowed at her as she entered, hopping down from her favorite sleeping spot on the arm of the couch to sit just outside the puddle of water pooling around Selina's feet, her tail curled around her dainty body.

"I really don't want to talk about it," she grumbled to the cat, kicking her boots off and leaving a trail of waterlogged clothes from the window to the shower.

It never should have gone that far. It was supposed to be a game, a game they'd stopped playing a long time ago. Bracing her hands against the tile, ice cold water pouring over her body until her lips were blue and her teeth chattering.

In the beginning all she wanted was a taste of him. She wanted to taste his lips, to taste justice in its purest form. The first time they kissed, she shocked him by pressing her lips to his as he tried to slap a pair of hilariously-shaped bat handcuffs onto her wrists. He tasted of salted caramel. That surprised her. The shock allowed him to subdue her. For a little while.

That should have been the end.

Then there were the light touches over broad shoulders or curved hips, then deep kisses that bruised their lips, then...whatever had just happened out on the roof. It would never be enough. She'd always want more.

Lately, she wanted more than their game across the city or his kisses in the dark. Who was he behind that mask? Could they have more than heated flirtation facilitated by costumes and rooftops?

Wrenching the faucet closed, she ran a towel roughly across her body, rubbing so hard with the terrycloth her skin was as red as an overripe tomato when she was done. This - them - it couldn't be. It just couldn't. As electric as their chemistry was, she needed to think of herself. Relationships were not for her, they never had been. Especially relationships with masked men who would be more than willing to turn her over to the GCPD for any number of her nighttime activities. She needed to remember that Selina Kyle didn't pull herself out of poverty by bending to the whims of men, no matter how well they kissed.

Maybe she just needed a break from Gotham. A break from all the familiar places. A break from him.

In her bedroom in nothing but her panties, she hit the speed dial on one of her burner phones. "Jimmy" - she knew that wasn't his real name - answered.

Jimmy was a guy who worked for another guy who worked for yet another guy who sometimes hired her to do jobs. Simple stuff - lift documents, steal data, etc. Nothing difficult. The last job he'd offered was in Prague. She originally said no, but...

"You still need someone to house sit for your friend?" she asked, using the established code.

"Yeah. You available?"

"When do you need me?" she answered, throwing her suitcase onto her bed. Isis's eyes narrowed when she saw the bag. With her nose proudly in the air, she sauntered out of the room, her displeasure evident with every swish of her tail.

"24." 24 hours.

"I'll be there." She hung up without another word and tossed the burner on the bed. Picking up her real cell, she scrolled through the contacts before tapping on the one she was looking for.

"Lola? It's Selina. I need a favor...No, nothing like that...I need you to watch Isis for awhile..."

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_Present Day_

Everything hurt. The metallic taste of blood lingered on her back molars while the stink of dried river muck emanated from her tangled hair. She groaned and rolled over, pushing the soft cotton blanket aside. She was on a gurney, blinding light shining down on her, wires monitoring her vital signs. Taking a quick assessment, she saw she had been stripped of her costume and wrapped in a hospital gown. The strings holding the back closed were tied with neat bows.

"Good morning, Miss. How are you feeling?" The older gentleman from the night before smiled kindly at her. Immaculate. That was the only word she could think to describe him. The hair on his head was combed backwards with military precision and the shine on his shoes was so spotless they glinted like mirrors. He smelled of sandalwood and freshly baked cookies.

Her arm radiated pain with each move and her back stung like she'd peeled all the skin off. It must have happened when her suit ripped open on the river rocks as he pulled her from the water. Him.

"...Batman...Is he...?" she managed, her tongue dry like sandpaper.

"Not to worry, Miss, he'll be along shortly. Come, drink this." He handed her a glass of cool water, which she immediately drained. The man smiled, well-worn creases appearing around his youthful hazel eyes. He was charismatic and charming, just being near him put her at ease. Strange to find him here surrounded by damp granite and restless bats.

"How are you feeling?" Batman's baritone voice reverberated through the steel gurney as he emerged from the shadows in that way of his. He fought a limp as he walked. The older gentleman nodded to her once before leaving them.

"How long was I out?"

"Four and half hours." She groaned again and swung her legs over the side of the metal table, every move sending jolts of pain across her tender back. Planting her legs on the floor, she attempted to stand. It was no use. Her legs were jelly. She started to fall.

Then his arm was around her midsection, supporting her.

"Careful. The anesthetic is powerful. It'll take some time to wear off." The table shook as she clung to it for balance.

"My kingdom for a shower," she mumbled as she tried to steady her shaking knees.

"Over there," he said, gesturing toward a door she hadn't seen a moment ago. Taking a moment to survey the area, she couldn't believe that he actually hung out in a cave. A specially renovated cave with a bathroom and a triage center, but a cave all the same. Fitting.

"Where'd that charming gentleman go?"

"Away," he said, as stoic as ever. She could barely keep her eyes from rolling.

"Glad you're still the sparkling conversationalist that I remember," she said sarcastically. "Is he your father?"

"It's complicated."

"Uh huh." Dropping the subject, she took a step towards the bathroom. Her legs wobbled and her head spun. She gripped the table again. "You weren't kidding about those drugs."

"Here," he said, taking her arm around his shoulder.

"You're not going to carry me?" she asked, using her best damsel in distress voice.

"Not on this leg." With his support, her steps became stronger as they moved. By the time they reached the bathroom she felt less like she was walking on putty. She steadied herself on the doorframe as he let her go. She missed his arms instantly.

"Will you be ok?" he asked as she took a few tentative steps into the brightly lit masculine bathroom. He was lingering.

Nodding, she tried to untie the bows at her back, biting her lip to prevent her from hissing in pain as she moved. Looking weak in front of him was worse than reeking of dried blood and river mud.

"Let me." The tenor in his voice made her forget the pain dancing across her nerves. There were a few barely perceptible tugs on the fabric of the gown before the cool air stung at her cuts.

"Is my back-"

"Just scrapes." His low, gentle voice washed over her. "My friend took the liberty of cleaning and repairing your suit. I'll ask him to leave it on the counter for you."

"Thank you," she said quietly. She could feel him at her back, feel his energy mingling with hers in a small space between their bodies. Her heart was pounding against her ribs so hard it was liable to burst through her chest at any moment.

Damn him. Damn him for reducing her to this with nothing more than his presence. For the first time since she'd arrived in Gotham, she questioned the wisdom of returning.

"About the ride here-"

"I don't know where I am, if that's what you're worried about."

"I know. If you hadn't..." He trailed off, taking a step back, breaking the tension tethering their bodies together.

"I didn't do anything," she said, waving it away with her hand. He nodded and disappeared from the room.


	11. Chapter 10

*Bonus Chapter!*

Chapter 10

Stories detailing the museum break in filled the Batcomputer's screen. The story had even landed on the front page of the Gotham Gazette. Famously jaded, the Gazette had stopped reporting on most city crime years ago simply because there was too much of it. In an editorial explaining the decision, the editor famously wrote that a day without crime in Gotham would be newsworthy. But even they jumped at the chance to run a story about a terrorist organization attempting to steal a priceless gem.

"We made the front page," Selina said, as she came up beside him. Her costume looked better than new.

"The Daily Planet didn't mention the ruby was a fake," she said after scanning an article.

"None of the articles did. Which means the police are deliberately withholding that information from the press-"

"Or they don't know," she said.

"Or you were wrong."

"I'm not wrong. It's a good fake and it could have gone unnoticed if the lighting wasn't so wonky."

"Is that an industry term?" he teased.

"Bigger question - Why did Red Claw want it in the first place? She's a terrorist, not a thief." Distain dripped from her voice.

"Sullied your noble profession, has she?" he asked lightly, unable to stop himself from teasing her again. He shouldn't flirt with her but he forgot his extensive list of reasons why whenever she smiled.

"He gets shot and suddenly he has a sense of humor," she shot back, smiling playfully at him.

He hit a few keys and Red Claw's face appeared next to a dossier.

"Red Claw has occasionally gone after items like this before. Paintings, sculptures, gems - if they're connected to Kaznia, no matter how tangentially, she's interested. However, no such link exists between Queen's Ruby and Kaznia. It was discovered in Myanmar in 1906 and has been privately owned by British or American collectors ever since."

"So why go after it?" she asked, studying the pictures on the screen. He called up hacked security footage from a rooftop camera located next to the museum. Red Claw's men could be seen breaking the skylight, dropping something through the hole (the grenade, he guessed) and then repelling into the building.

"That's the museum?" she asked, her brow furrowing with doubt.

"From last night."

"Someone disabled the security system before they arrived."

"You?" he asked.

"Don't insult me. There's no challenge in getting past a disabled system. The real artistry comes from getting in and out through a live system."

"Artistry?" he asked, incredulous.

"That's the trouble with art. It means different things to different people," she said, playfully winking at him. God, he'd missed her.

"How do you know the security system was disabled?"

"Because the system in that area is a containment system. If they'd busted the skylight while it was still armed, we would have been caught inside."

He cocked his head, waiting for her to continue.

"Instead of triggering a silent alarm like in other areas of the building, this area is designed to lock down if an alarm is triggered. Once the alarm is triggered, steel panels slide over the windows, bomb-proof doors slam closed, and bars cover the air vents. And it all happens within 6.3 seconds of a trigger, making it impossible to get out. Until the boys in blue show up, anyway."

He studied her. Breaking the law was something she did because she could. Because she wanted to. Because she was good at it. But she treated her jobs seriously and did her homework. He admired the hell out of that, which bothered him in ways he couldn't quite articulate.

"A disabled system doesn't explain the police call I heard. My sources indicate that there is no discernible cause for the call - no tripped sensors of any kind and none of the guards reported suspicious activity or placing a call to the GCPD. And you weren't on the security feed." He looked at her. "Looped thirty second playback?"

She shrugged.

"Just because I like a challenge doesn't mean I ignore security cameras."

Mentally he flipped through the small catalogue of evidence. A mystery alarm. The fake ruby. The disabled alarm system. Red Claw's sudden appearance.

He went back to the moment Red Claw appeared at the crime scene. Catwoman taunting Red Claw about being beaten to the ruby. Red Claw calling her a fool. Red Claw turning the gem over in her hands and then becoming angry...turning it over -

"Red Claw expected the ruby to be a fake," he said as it hit him.

"You're sure?"

"She turned it over. She was looking for something." He stood and walked over to his lab equipment. Liquids of varying colors bubbled in flasks and beakers and tubes. Three computers ran analysis on a beaker full of blue liquid containing the sample of corrosive residue from the gem case. The analysis wouldn't be complete for awhile.

"Let's go back tonight and we'll see if we can find anything," she said. He stopped himself before he nodded in agreement. He couldn't work with her. She was a thief and she couldn't be trusted. Plus he couldn't think straight when she was around, especially after he'd seen her face on the video (and her perfect ass when he untied her hospital gown). That look made him believe there was something in his future beyond the darkness of the cave and the pain of his parents' deaths.

The Bat was harassing him, insisting he do something, anything to get her to hate him, to make her storm out and put an end to it right now so he could get back to work. Everything else was begging him to make her stay. She was smart. She was quick. She wasn't afraid to get her hands dirty. She was still a criminal, but she was proving useful...

"As long as you stay on my side of the law you could be beneficial to this investigation." he said, keeping his voice as monotone as possible.

"Don't use up your romantic lines all at once, handsome," she teased, smirking. He almost smiled.


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Sparkling like Christmas lights, the Queen's Ruby rested safely in its plexiglass case. The "wonky" lighting noted by Selina the night before hadn't changed. Either the museum was purposely displaying a fake, which was unlikely, or they had no idea it was a fake. What did that have to do with Red Claw?

The museum's staff had done an amazing job cleaning up the room after last night's events. He could barely tell that this room had been the scene of a break in and an explosion less than 24 hours before. They'd even replaced the skylight. But the extensive cleaning didn't mean all the evidence had been wiped away. Using the infrared scanner built into his cowl, he examined the room for any additional traces of the unidentified corrosive that had eaten through the display's wires. Nothing. Not even a drop on the floor next to the case. Whoever had switched out the gems had been careful.

Catwoman slid down the rope he'd left hanging from the open skylight.

"Anything?" he asked as he took a closer look at the case holding the ruby. Catwoman had insisted on examining the main security switch after he disabled it.

"No cut wires, no gadgets to bypass the system, nothing. Not even a scratch or dent on any of the wires where an electricity diverter could have been placed. Whoever disabled the system last night was thorough and left no trace."

"The lighting hasn't been changed on the display case," he said, changing the subject. "And the local security system wiring has been replaced." He gestured toward the ruby with his pen light

"May I?" she asked. Grabbing his pen light, she held it above the ruby. With the additional lighting, the ruby lost its dark red coloring. "That explains a lot."

He waited for her to continue.

"Proper lighting would've been a dead giveaway of a fake. Rubies from the Mogok valley - where this one was discovered - are typically blood red. This? This looks like someone took a red crayon and turned it into a hunk of plastic."

"The case's lighting is intentional," he said.

"That'd be my guess."

"Then someone with access to the exhibit knows it's a fake."

She nodded, handing the penlight back to him. Reaching in his utility belt, he secured a small device to the side of the podium.

"What is that?"

"Localized electromagnetic pulse emitter. Disrupts the local security system." Tiny red lights flashed for fifteen seconds before glowing green.

"I prefer my way," she said, flashing her diamond-tipped claws. He carefully lifted the plexiglass case surrounding the ruby and set it down. Pressing button in his gauntlet, he detached the gauntlet computer.

"It's a phone," she said, surprised, as he rotated the computer in his hands. He started taking pictures of the ruby and its display case for the case file. "Smart," she said. She was impressed. He tried not to let it go to his head.

He snapped the phone back into his gauntlet and picked up the ruby. Turning it over in his gloved hands, he tried to think like Red Claw. He ran his gloved fingers over the smooth sides of the gem.

"What are you looking for?"

He didn't answer as he continued to slide his fingers over each face of the ruby.

"Let me, my gloves are thinner." She took it from him and ran her fingertips over the ridges. Her brows knotted together. "Here. There's an imperfection...a seam, maybe?" She picked at it with the claw on the end of her elegant pointer finger. A compartment slid open. It was empty. He pulled one of the empty plastic test tubes he used to collect evidence from him belt. It fit in the compartment perfectly. Everything started to make more sense.

"Whatever was in this compartment was Red Claw's target. But it was gone before she arrived." He put the gem back into its case and studied Catwoman for a moment. When he arrived on the scene Catwoman had just reached the ruby. She hadn't had a chance to take whatever was in the compartment. Then how did she fit in? "Who knew you were pulling this job?" he asked.

She shot him a look.

"Who knew?" he asked again.

"No one. I'm not some newbie amateur."

"You're sure?"

"How is this relevant?" He didn't answer. Cold green eyes studied him. Inhaling, she unwound her whip from her waist.

"Come on," she said, pulling herself back up the rope they'd used to get into the museum. She didn't flinch as she climbed, never showing the pain her wound must be causing. He admired that. A lot.

"Where are we going?" he asked when he reached the roof.

"To see a friend."

^()^

The sallow glow from the gallery of computer screens reflected off the man's dirty glasses. He toggled between programs and screens as he typed furiously, lines of code multiplying by the second. Suddenly, a thin leather cord wrapped around his throat.

"I don't have anything worth stealing," he said, slowly setting his palms on either side of his keyboard.

"Tell me something I don't know."

"Catwoman," he croaked, sitting back in his chair to get some slack.

"Calculator." Calculator, A.K.A. Noah Kuttler, renowned hacker and information broker to every crook and criminal within a thirty mile radius of Gotham. Like a dealer of rare collectibles, Calculator dealt in exclusive information.

"I need to know everything you know about what happened at the Gotham Museum last night."

"Damn, right to it, huh?" he said as she relaxed the whip.

"I'm a busy gal," she said nonchalantly.

"Maybe you should Google it. See, there are these things call 'news blogs' that will provide all the information you're looking for." The whip tightened again.

"You know as well as I do that what I want to know won't be on Google. You're going to tell me what Red Claw was after."

"Even if I knew what you're babbling about-"

"Don't play dumb. You know everything that happens in this town. Unless you've lost your touch? Maybe you're obsolete and I should be talking to someone else?" she asked, digging at him where it hurts. Nothing bothered him more than the thought of someone else scooping him on intel.

"What makes you think I'd tell you anything?" She spun his chair, pinned his hands to the armrests, and got in his face with her nose millimeters from his.

"Because if you don't, he'll break your arms." Batman lurked in the corner, his mass large and intimidating.

"You brought your fucking _boyfriend _here?" he shrieked, incredulous. The corner of Catwoman's mouth curled into a smirk.

"You really think he didn't already know you were here?" she hissed in his ear as her diamond claws pinched his skin. "Haven't moved hideouts in years and you didn't even notice when I looped your rooftop camera feed. Maybe you have lost your touch."

"Go to hell," he growled. She smiled and dug her claws harder into his arm. A strangled cry of pain escaped his lips.

"You owe me, Calculator. Remember when you sold me out to that meta for a few grand?"

"And you broke my jaw for that!" She dug her nails in harder, breaking the skin. "Ok! Ok! Rumor is Red Claw was after a designer biotoxin that some Kaznian loyalist had gotten his hands on."

"Do you have a name?" Batman asked, speaking for the first time since they left the museum.

"No."

Catwoman released her hold on Calculator as Batman stepped closer. She knew what he wanted her to do without looking at him.

Batman grabbed Calculator by the throat and picked him up, his feet dangling from the floor. Calculator's panicked eyes darted between the costumed figures.

"The name," Batman growled, slamming him into the bank of computer monitors lining the wall.

"I'd tell him," she said, crossing her arms and leaning against a table holding more screens.

"N-N-Nardoc Sera. He works at the museum!"

"You aren't telling me everything," Batman growled. Catwoman glanced at him, her eyes never betraying her surprise. "I think you know more about the ruby than you're letting on."

"He just doesn't want to be helpful tonight, does he?"

"Doesn't look that way," Batman said, his grip tightening.

"Some artist in the East End was working on a top secret project for Sera," Calculator whimpered.

"And?" Catwoman asked.

"That's all I know! I swear!" Batman held him aloft for a few more seconds before throwing him back into the chair. Calculator gasped, shaking. By the time he regained his breath, they were gone.


	13. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Dead ends. Nothing but one dead end after another. Every lead they had was proving itself to be a complete waste of time. That's the nature of investigative work, he knew, but it didn't make it any less frustrating.

Nardoc Sera was a ghost - lost in the wind 3 days before the break in. His apartment was empty and his bank accounts untouched. Given the lack of public records and a complete absence of social media profiles, Nardoc Sera had existed for a short 6 month period when he worked at as the assistant to the museum's gem curator.

The curator was another dead end. The stereotypical spacey professor type, he didn't even realize Nardoc Sera hadn't shown up for work for the past four days. He was shocked to learn about the fake gem, but not as shocked as they all were when he discovered the real ruby hidden in a battered cardboard box in the back of the gem safe.

"I still don't see why we couldn't have held on to it for safe keeping," she said, stretching against the passenger seat of the Batmobile.

"Right," he said sarcastically, weaving in and out of traffic. The Bat Signal shone bright in the autumn sky as he sped toward GCPD headquarters. The mystery surrounding the ruby was an elaborate ruse to facilitate the transfer of a biotoxin to Red Claw. Then why hadn't it been there? Who got to it first?

Yanking hard on the wheel, the car spun to the right and ended up perfectly parallel parked behind the police headquarters. Due to safety concerns and needless wear and tear on the car he rarely used that move...but he wanted to do it tonight. Maybe he was showboating. Maybe he wanted to impress her.

"You handle all your equipment that well?" she asked, sex dripping from every syllable. He wouldn't rise to the bait, but he was pleased that it worked.

"Stay here."

"You don't expect that will actually work, do you?" she asked, her arms crossed.

"Gordon knows you're responsible for that string of West Side robberies two years ago. And so do I."

The West Side robberies were a string of at least a dozen open cases involving undetectable break ins focused on high end goods.

"Prove it, handsome," she purred, rising to her knees and getting into his space. She knew he couldn't. He lacked the physical evidence to tie her (or anyone) to the crimes. It was infuriating. "I'm your partner on this case. It's in your best interests to vouch for me. I am on your side, after all."

"For now," he pointed out.

"Exactly," she said, pleased with herself. With a sigh, he climbed out of the car.

^()^^()^

"How long have you known?" Batman asked, flipping through the file folder.

"Since yesterday," Jim Gordon said, taking a drag off his cigarette, his eyes never leaving Catwoman. "Feds have been playing this one real close to the vest for obvious reasons. They wouldn't have told us at all if not for Red Claw's little stunt last night. Rumor says this is what she's looking for."

Catwoman played coy as Gordon glared at her. It had only taken a few words from Batman to get Gordon to accept her presence. But acceptance didn't mean he liked it.

Batman's brow furrowed under his cowl as he scanned the file. One month earlier, an experimental level 4 biotoxin was stolen from a government-run germ lab 30 miles outside the city. He was certain Nardoc Sera was involved.

"And I suppose you don't know anything about what went down last night," Gordon sneered, his eyes narrowing as Catwoman casually leaned against the Bat Signal.

"I know what you know," she said, smiling, her voice innocently sweet. She was taunting him, playing with him.

"I'm sure," Gordon spat. He turned to Batman. "Can I have a word? In private?" Catwoman shrugged her shoulders and sauntered to the far corner of the roof, purposely swinging her hips with every step. Gordon flicked his cigarette butt to the ground with disgust. "I hope you know what you're doing."

"Meaning?" Batman asked, his voice flat and neutral, though his body was as tight as a string.

"She's one of the most notorious thieves in Gotham."

"She's here to help."

"And I'm the Pope," Gordon said, his voice louder than intended. He took a deep breath and lit another cigarette.

"I thought you quit," Batman said, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Don't change the subject. We both know she's responsible for all those robberies a few years ago."

"There's no evidence to support that," Batman said. Gordon scoffed.

"There's no way in hell she just happened to turn up again on the same night someone tried to steal one of the rarest gems in the world." Gordon took a deep breath. "Look, I get it. She looks damn good in that suit-"

"Are we done here?" Batman snapped, cutting him off mid-sentence. Gordon dropped his cigarette and crushed it beneath his shoe. His eyes were hard, harder than Batman had ever seen them.

"Yeah. We're done."

He watched Batman and Catwoman disappear from the roof.

"I hope you know what you're doing," Gordon whispered again, his breath visible in the cold air.

^()^

"That went well," she said, sliding into the passenger seat of the Batmobile.

"You didn't have to taunt him," he said as the roof slid closed.

"I did no such thing."

"Uh huh." He tossed the folder onto the dash. She picked it up and paged through.

"We're not going to try to shake down this government facility are we?" she asked, tossing the folder back onto the dash. That would usually be his next move but he had his reservations. It surprised him that she would have reservations as well.

"Why?" he asked.

"Because they will have stepped up security after last night. They won't relax it for at least three weeks. I'm certain we could get in if we wanted, but I'm not sure it would be the smartest move at this point."

Wordlessly, he stared at her. Why was she in the museum that night? Was it a coincidence? Or was she working with Sera? Could he really trust her on this?

She flipped through the case file again, her lips pursed in thought. His gut was telling him he could trust her. At least, he thought that's what his instincts were saying. He wasn't sure why he was allowing this partnership to continue...but then there was that part of him that said he knew very well why.

"The lab's out. I have another idea, but I'm going to have to blindfold you."

She cocked her head to the side and raised her eyebrows.

"Sounds fun," she said, grinning wickedly at him. His body went hot. Maybe Gordon was right.


	14. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

She rubbed her tired eyes and stifled a yawn. They'd been at this for hours, pouring over security footage from the lab where the biotoxin had been stolen. The time code on the moved as she fast forwarded through the security footage at four times normal speed but nothing was happening on the screen.

"This place is a regular Times Square," she mumbled sarcastically. She wasn't sure what she was supposed to be looking for. Something out of the ordinary. Something the FBI had managed to miss.

That she was helping him at all was ridiculous. She should be working on stealing the real ruby, not scrolling through footage of a nearly empty hallway. Tracking down dead end leads was a waste of her time. Except he was just so...him. She'd missed that. Plus, there was that "I'll have to blindfold you" thing that made her toes curl in her boots with giddy anticipation. Too bad he meant "I have to blindfold you to take you back to my weird cave with the nice bathroom." Sighing, she tried to focus.

He hadn't told her how he'd managed to secure almost six weeks worth of security footage from a top secret government laboratory in less time than it takes most people to order a pizza. However he did it, she was positive it wasn't legal. Funny how he was so willing to bend the law to suit his own needs. She glanced at him - he was fidgeting as he scrolled though biotoxin files names that looked like gibberish. They'd hit another dead end.

"Batman, come in," a female voice came through the speakers of the Batcomputer.

"Any progress, Oracle?" he asked, leaning back in the high-backed captain's chair.

"Some. Not nearly enough."

"Great," he said sarcastically.

"It's the government. If we don't want them to realize we're poking around I need to take precautions. But I'm actually calling because I have some information about your mystery artist."

"Go ahead."

"She goes by the name Effervescent. Her specialty is sculpting complex objects out of plastic. She's been a prop sculptor for several East End theaters for over a decade. However - she's a gambling addict. My sources say she got in too deep with a small time bookie and he requested she sculpt him a rather large ruby to pay off her debt."

"This bookie have a name?" he asked. Selina stood beside him, hanging on every word.

"Gerry Pavloski. He's only been in Gotham about six months, sounds like he's trying to establish himself," Oracle said.

"What perfectly coincidental timing," Selina said as they exchanged a look.

"You have a description?" Batman asked.

"Better. I have a picture. Sending it now," A grainy photo of a dark haired man wearing sunglasses filled the screen. Batman clicked on a file on his desktop and Nardoc Sera's picture popped up. A few keystrokes later, the Batcomputer verified what they already knew - Nardoc Sera and Gerry Pavloski were the same man.

"Send me Effervescent's location. I'll question her tonight."

"It would be a waste of time."

"Explain."

"She's in a coma. Hit and run about two weeks ago, both her and her wife are in critical condition at Gotham General. Their place is clean - I had a mutual associate check it out."

"Who?"

"Nightwing."

Batman said nothing as he stared at the picture of Gerry Pavloski AKA Nardoc Sera.

"So I hear you've got a new partner." Oracle prodded, teasing him. Selina could practically feel him blush. She grinned.

"Call me when you've got something on the lab. Batman out."

"Secret government security footage. A mysterious woman doing something that sounds a lot like hacking into a government computer system. My my, Mr. Bat, aren't we full of surprises," she said as he swiveled his chair around to face her. Arms were crossed over his chest, and his mouth immobile.

"Your point?"

"You break the law so casually when it suits your needs yet you'd rip Gotham apart to find someone if they'd done the same."

"It's not the same," he said.

"Rationalize it however you need to, handsome. We both know the truth." He spun his chair back around.

"Get back to work. We may have connected Sera to the ruby but we still need to connect him to the biotoxin." Her body was stiff and she was bored out of her skull. If she had watch an empty hallway for another hour she was going to scream.

She spun his chair back around.

"I think we could both use a little...physical activity," she said, her voice seductive as she slid into his lap.

"Selina-" he began.

"You got a gym in this thing?" she asked, cutting him off. He nodded once. "Let's spar. Neither one of us is getting anywhere. Getting the blood flowing will do us both a world of good."

The corners of his mouth ticked upward. A smile. An honest to God smile. Her heart pounded in her chest.

^^()^^ ^^()^^ ^^()^^ ^^()^^

He pinned her to the mats, her arms locked to her sides.

"You keep letting your guard down on your left," he said.

"I don't remember asking for pointers," she sneered, head butting him and jumping to her feet. Up instantly, he took her down with three short moves, ending with a knee to her left side.

"And yet you need them," he taunted. He'd forgotten how much he loved sparring with her. Lunging, she knocked him onto his back. He threw her into a pile of mats. Just when he thought she was staying down, she tackled him and they rolled across the mats, a tangle of limbs and black costumes.

"Admit it, you like getting all sweaty with me," she panted once they stopped rolling. He pulled them to their feet, her arms pinned between them, her upper back flush against his chest. She gasped in pain but refused to give up.

"Why are you helping me?" he asked, breath in her ear.

"Why are you letting me?" she snapped, slamming her heel into his knee. He buckled but didn't lose his grip, maneuvering them so he landed atop her, her arms still immobilized.

"What do you get out of it?"

"Pleasure," she purred, arching her body against his.

"I want a real answer," he said, his hands relaxing.

"That is a real answer, handsome," she teased, giving him that sex-filled stare he'd fantasied about more than once.

"You came back to Gotham for the ruby. That went sideways. Instead of leaving you've stayed to help solve this case. Why?"

"Maybe I like you," she said, playing coy to distract him and stop his questions.

"Why did you leave Gotham?" he asked, his voice quiet, low, his lips inches from hers. Her eyes flashed, anger evident. She didn't want to talk. Not about this. Glaring, the air around them was hot and still, bat wings fluttered in the distance. She kissed him full on the lips.

^^()^^ ^^()^^ ^^()^^ ^^()^^

Soft, eager lips moved against hers as he deepened the kiss. She'd forgotten how he could do that, how the slightest touch of his lips slowed time itself. Desire rushed through her, desire she hadn't felt since she'd left Gotham. She'd had lovers during her time away - some were a means to an end, one or two were because she wanted them. But none of them made her feel as hot and out of control as he could with nothing more than a kiss.

As suddenly as it began, it ended.

"If we're going to work together, we can't do this," he said, a note of regret in his voice. She watched his full lips close over brilliantly white, perfectly straight teeth. Movie star teeth.

A jolt of electricity surged through her body as pieces of the puzzle became whole. Years of practice kept her face emotionless. The way he kissed, her physical reaction, those bright white teeth - It was so obvious to her now. She knew. She knew who he was under that mask.

"Right," she said, sitting up.

"It's not that -" he began, shutting up when he thought better of it.

"No, no. You're right, we've got to run this operation cleanly," she said, refusing to look in his direction for fear he'd see the realization on her face.

"What did you say?" he asked. He sounded so odd that she couldn't help but look at him.

"I understand that we need to keep business and pleasure separate."

"No. What did you say?"

"We need to run this operation cleanly?" she asked, completely bewildered by his behavior. He leapt to his feet and sprinted toward the Batcomputer before she could pull herself up off the floor.

"Did I miss something?" she asked when she caught him. The keys clacked as he entered some terms into the search bar. Two identical invoices appeared on the screen.

"That's how they did it," he said, gesturing to the screen. "The same cleaning company serviced both the lab and the museum." They smiled at each other - the case had finally broken.


	15. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

_One Year Earlier _

Underworld rumors broke one of two ways - complete fabrications or absolute truths. Being in the game for as long as he had gave him the ability to tell the difference, which is why the most recent rumor involving Catwoman's hasty departure from Gotham bothered him. It smelled too true.

Wearing a battered leather jacket and a dirty Gotham Knights baseball cap pulled low, he'd spent the last few weeks surveying her neighborhood. He drank foamy cappuccinos dusted with cinnamon at the cafe she was rumored to frequent. He flipped through damp magazines with curled front covers at the newsstand across the street from her building. At dusk, before he had to return to the cave to get ready to go on patrol, he'd sit in the late model sedan designated for stakeouts and watch her apartment, as the scent of fresh pork carnitas from the taco truck parked around the block filled the streets.

This hadn't been a part of his calculations when he decided to take up the cowl. Predicting the physical damage he could (and did) endure, projecting the financial cost of suits and gear as the years passed, foreseeing the irreparable damage to his personal life - he saw all of that coming and he had accepted it as tradeoffs for his mission. But Selina? Selina blindsided him. There was a clear divide in his crime fighting career - pre-Catwoman, where his relationship to those he chased was black and white; and post-Catwoman, where everything involving her existed in a complicated grey area he couldn't quite understand. It was uncomfortable. And exciting.

Now she was gone. This was all his fault, wasn't it? The roof should never have happened. But it had. Oh, God, it had. If only that siren...

Slipping out of the car just as the streetlights flickered to life, he walked casually around the back of her building. He made sure the coast was clear before shimmying up the fire escape.

Nothing that had happened between them should have happened. Too many lingering touches and hard, fast kisses had passed between them. They hid behind their alter egos and played what amounted to a game of sexual chicken. But it wasn't a game anymore and they both knew it. It had stopped being a game when he found himself fantasizing about her while he was fucking some socialite in the coat closet of yet another party to keep up Bruce Wayne's reputation as a womanizing jackass. It had stopped being a game when he thought about what it would be like to eat brunch with her on a Sunday morning or walk through Gotham Park with her in the spring just as the tulips bloomed. It stopped being a game when he started thinking they could have more together outside the costumes than in them.

Now, as he stood in her empty apartment, he saw the rumors were true. Catwoman - Selina - was gone. She had done what he couldn't and removed herself from the situation.

This was for the best. It had to be. He should be elated, relieved, happy. Instead, he was lonely. And alone.

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_Present Day_

Andre Jimenez collapsed into his chair, a cold beer in his hand. After an 18-hour day the beer was well deserved. He popped the cap, the scent of hops tickling his nose. A gloved hand came down on the lip of the bottle. He looked up and found himself face to face with The Batman.

"Holy shit." Batman took the beer and set it down on the coffee table. Catwoman lingered by the open window. "You're him."

"Mr. Jimenez," he said.

"I - I don't want any trouble," Andre said, putting his hands out to show they were empty. "I don't have as much as a speeding ticket."

"You work for Sunshine Cleaning," Batman stated, pulling his cape around his body, becoming one with the shadows in the dark apartment.

"Yeah?" he asked, his eyes darting from Batman to Catwoman and back.

"You clean a laboratory located at 534 Spruce Street. Is that correct?"

"Yes?" he asked, confused.

"You were supposed to clean the laboratory facility the night of September 12. The same night there was a break in."

"Look man, I told the cops everything I know. I wasn't even there that night."

"You were out sick," Batman continued. "In the six years since you started working at Sunshine Cleaning, you'd never missed one day of work. Until that day. A little too convenient, don't you think?"

"Like I told the cops, I was si-"

"Don't lie to me," Batman hissed, his face centimeters from the terrified man's.

"Ok! Ok!" Andre sighed as he sat forward in his chair, his face in his hands. "I let a guy take my shift."

"Who?" Catwoman asked.

"Brian Anders. He only worked with us for about four months. I thought he was a good dude, but..."

"But?" Andre looked at him.

"Me and Brian used to talk sports, you know? Says he's got the inside track on a few basketball games. Pay out a 100 to 1. I don't really gamble, but it sounded like a sure thing. And with Christmas coming, I thought I could get the kids somethin' nice with the winnings, you know? Well, wasn't a sure thing. I lost my shirt and couldn't pay up."

"Who'd you owe?" Batman asked.

"Brian's bookie."

"You remember a name?"

"Gerry Pavlov or Pavloski, somethin' like that. Gerry said the only way I could pay off the debt was if I agreed to let Brian take my shift at the lab. I agreed. That was the night of the break in. Brian stuck around for a few more days, did a few more shifts, but then he stopped showing up. Haven't seen him since."

"Did he do a shift at the museum?" Catwoman asked.

"Maybe. I don't know. We rotate crews a lot."

Batman nodded and headed toward the window.

"Wait - I'm not gonna get in trouble, am I?" Andre asked. "I can't lose my job. I've got kids, a wife, my mom lives with us...we're barely getting by as it is." Catwoman froze, her eyes never leaving Batman's cowled face. Batman shook his head.

"Far as I'm concerned, this conversation never happened." Then he was gone.

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Selina gathered her things and tossed them into the open suitcase on the bed.

"This is completely unnecessary. We have several hours of work ahead of us and I'd rather not waste any more time," Batman grumbled as he lurked in a corner.

"Is that your way of telling me to move my ass?" she teased. She didn't expect an answer. "I'd like to brush my teeth before I spend more time scrolling through hacked surveillance footage. Maybe shower. Plus, if I'm not going to get to sleep in this bed, I'm checking out."

There was silence as she continued her task, a task she wasn't sure had much purpose. Why go back to the cave with him? He could leave her here and she'd be free to go after the ruby just as she originally planned. But there was something about this case, something about the strangeness of a fake ruby and a biotoxin that had her interest peaked. She could always leave after they solved the case.

"Do you think Jimenez was telling the truth?" she asked as she zipped her bag closed.

"Yes." He was quiet. Selina knew better. She could read his silences.

"But?" she asked.

"It doesn't fit Red Claw's M.O. If her organization wanted the biotoxin, they wouldn't go through such elaborate steps to get it."

"Maybe they're changing it up."

"Maybe," he said, believing everything but.

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At 10 a.m. he finally found what he was looking for. Footage of a man matching Brian Anders description casually pushing a cart down the hall near the Level 4 biohazard area. The crime itself wasn't on camera. There was no record of anyone accessing the lab during the time of the burglary. Whoever had done this had covered their tracks. Covering tracks wasn't Red Claw's style. He didn't like it.

"I've been going through the files Oracle managed to hack," she said, coming over to his work station. Oracle had been able to get past most of the protections and access the lab's files, but there were still several higher security files she was working to get.

"What have you got?"

"Nothing spectacular. The facility is, from all appearances, a standard germ lab. They work with all the usual suspects - ebola, small pox, hemorrhagic fevers, etc. Passes safety inspections, no problems with containment, no record of any accidents. Yada, yada, yada."

"There's got to be more in the files she hasn't accessed yet."

"If there isn't?"

"There is. Because none of this adds up."

"Are you referring to a specific part of the infuriating puzzle or...?" she joked. Her humor was refreshing.

"If Red Claw was after something like smallpox or hemorrhagic fever, there are facilities across Europe working with these biological agents. There's a facility in Germany that's supposed to be the best in the world and it's 150 kilometers from Red Claw's alleged base of operations. It's a hell of a lot closer than Gotham."

"Anyone ever tell you you're cute for a detective?" she asked playfully.

He punched a few keys on the console to call up Oracle. As he did, the picture of Brian Anders maximized on the screen. Selina jumped to her feet.

"Wait - who is that?"

"Running cross analysis verification, but I believe that's Brian Anders."

"I know him," she said, stunned. "And his name isn't Brian Anders."


	16. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Catwoman silently opened the back window to Brian Anders apartment. The putrid smell of rancid milk and stale beer hit her in the face, making her stomach twist. Foul. That was the only word for it.

Once inside, they waded through a sea of empty beer cans and wine bottles, gingerly stepping around a bare mattress lying on the floor like a filthy island. Unopened mail and racing pamphlets were scattered across a cheap card table marred by cigarette burns. Her jaw tightened. Her father used to live like this. Most hopeless alcoholics did.

"Gambling," she said, gesturing to the racing pamphlets.

"A lot of that going around," Batman said as he searched the dirty bathroom. She searched the kitchen, rifling through cracked cupboards and sticky drawers. Most were empty save old packets of ketchup and coffee stirrers.

"Anything?" she asked.

"He didn't live here alone. There are two toothbrushes in the medicine cabinet and an open box of tampons under the sink." He ran a gloved finger along the counter, leaving a neat path through the dust. "No one's been here in weeks."

"Or days," she said, sorting through a stack of unopened mail. He looked at her and she almost laughed. "Alcoholics with gambling problems aren't usually the best housekeepers."

She handed him an unopened envelope with the words "FINAL NOTICE" stamped on the front in angry red ink.

"Jamie Nguyen," he read. "Must be the girlfriend."

Catwoman planted her hands on her hips and surveyed the apartment. No couch, no recliner, just that old mattress and the sea of crushed Genesee brand beer cans. Her eyes narrowed and she crouched down near the refrigerator, getting her face as close to the floor as she could without actually touching it. Pulling her head up, she reached in the space between the fridge and the cabinets.

"Never fails," she said as she pulled an old cell phone covered in grime from its hiding place. She rubbed it on a piece of junk mail, trying to clean off the gunk, a grimace of mild disgust marring her features. "Gross."

"How?" he asked. She smiled sadly, raw pain in her eyes just long enough for him to see it.

"My father was a drunk. Whenever he lost anything important, which was all the time, it always ended up under the fridge. It makes sense - that's where the cold beer is." Her tone was light, almost jokey, as she tried to make it no big deal.

She turned away from him and focused on turning the phone on.

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Batman was quiet as she pressed buttons on the ancient phone. His dossier on Catwoman/Selina Kyle stated she lost both her parents at a young age. He didn't have a lot of information about her childhood. Her mother had died (suicide) when she was 7, her father gone by the time she was 10 (drank himself to death). Then Selina herself disappeared from the public record. No school transcripts, no arrest records, no records from Child Protective Services. The only other record of anyone connected to the Kyle family he'd been able to find was for Magdalena Kyle, an orphan at The St. Jerome Emiliani Home for Children. Magdalena started living there at the age of 8. According to his records, Selina would have been 11 at the time.

The urge to tell her that he understood what it was like to be an orphan was overwhelming. She'd hate that he'd seen a moment of vulnerability in her practiced demeanor. So he said nothing.

"Here's the real Brian Anders," she said, holding up the phone. On the screen was a picture of a bald man with his face pressed close to a dark haired woman's. Both were smiling broadly as the blue sea sparkled behind them. They looked happy. One thing was clear - this was not the man from the surveillance footage.

"Bring that with you," he said, gesturing to the phone.

"Where are we going?"

"The morgue."

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Her gloved hand cupped her nose and mouth as she focused on holding back the wave of nausea threatening to overtake her.

"Where to next? The sewer? I hear that smells great this time of year," she said. Even in the sanitized environment of the morgue, the scent of death wafting off the real Brian Anders was about to knock her over.

"Here," Batman said, handing her a small jar of Vicks Vapo-Rub. "Put some under your nose. It'll help."

"How did you know we'd find him here? He's a John Doe." she asked, handing the jar back to him. He pulled open another cold locker and Jamie Nguyen slid into sight. The stiff white tag on her toe read; "Jane Doe - 239-2014".

"I heard about them a few days ago. According to the reports, these two were found on a private beach just north of the city. The cops think they tried to sneak onto the beach after sunset, but due to poor visibility and their blood alcohol levels, they didn't see the cliff before falling to their deaths."

"A poetic way for romantically inclined drunks to die."

"Too poetic. That's why I remembered them."

"They were murdered," she said, a note of sadness in her voice.

He studied the corpses as they stood in the darkened room.

"Why kill both of them if only Anders's ID was compromised?"

"She knew too much?" Catwoman ventured, though she didn't believe it for a second.

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"How do you know the fake Brian Anders?" he asked as they drove back towards the Batcave, a blindfold tied securely around her eyes.

"He was the...let's say boyfriend...one of my Italian business associates. We never spoke."

"Yet you remember him?" he asked skeptically. He watched her grin out of the corner of his eye.

"The few times I saw him he was laying out by the pool wearing nothing but a smile, so, yes, I remember him. Quite well," she said, her voice nothing but a sultry purr.

"But you never spoke?" he asked, his voice betraying his smile. She smiled back and shifted her body in the bucket seat.

"My associate goes through boys like most people go through tissues. None of his little boy toys ever stuck around long."

"But long enough to make you."

Silently, she turned her face toward the window.

"The involvement of your associate's former boyfriend is too much of a coincidence to ignore, Selina. Did they know you were going after the ruby?"

She sighed and he imagined her rolling her emerald eyes under the blindfold.

"The fewer people who know what you're doing, the less chance you'll get sold out to the highest bidder. It's rule number one in the outlaw handbook."

"And where does one buy the outlaw handbook?" he quipped, still unable to stop from flirting with her.

"You're adorable for thinking its something you buy," she quipped back. He smiled, but only because she couldn't see him.

"Penny-One to Batman." the speaker crackled to life as Alfred's accented voice filled the car.

"Go ahead, Penny-One."

"Sir, will you be back soon? There's something here you may want to see."

"What is it?" Batman snapped as his foot slammed down on the accelerator.

"Results are back on the sample of the substance that ate through the wires on the gem case. It's chemical makeup is unique."

"That's good news," Catwoman said.

"Perhaps. However, this particular residue has extremely high traces of..." Alfred trailed off.

"Spit it out," Batman growled as the city fell away behind them.

"...It has extremely high traces of a compound found only in Lazarus pits."


	17. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

"Let me get this straight - You believe the person who impersonated Brian Anders is a member of the League of Assassins," she said, leaning against the doorframe to the Cave's weapons room. He tossed a rope into a canvas bag at his feet, along with several full utility belts.

"Yes. Nardoc Sera, too."

"And Red Claw? She's a terrorist but she's not stupid enough to cross the League."

"Nardoc Sera is Kasnian. Or his identity is."

"Meaning?" she asked.

"He's a double agent - most likely working for Ra's while spying on Red Claw. But his real purpose was to set up the transfer of the biotoxin to another LoA agent. As bookie Gerry Pavloski, Sera was able to secure the fake gem and locate an identity for his colleague to use."

"Effervescent the sculptor and Brian Anders."

"Both people were deep enough into their addictions to use a bookie but were functional enough to be useful."

"So Sera places the gem at the museum while Fake Brian Anders steals the biotoxin," she said as she started to see the pieces fall into place.

"Then Anders places it in the gem's compartment while on a cleaning job."

"Then why wasn't the biotoxin there when Red Claw arrived?" she asked.

"You tell me," he said, crossing his arms across his broad chest.

"Tell you what?" she said, immediately sensing the change in his demeanor. This wasn't the man who had been her partner over these last few days - this was the Batman who had no problem hauling her off to Gordon and the GCPD.

"Your associate's ex-lover just happened to show up in a germ lab the night the burglary was committed using the name of a man who would be found dead several weeks later. And you beat Red Claw to the gem."

"Why would I ask where the biotoxin was if I took it?" she asked, backing up as he took steps toward her.

"What were you doing there, Selina?" He was so close now her nose almost touched his chin.

"I didn't even touch the ruby that night, you saw to that!"

"Who were you working with?"

"I thought I was working with you!" she shot back as she squared her shoulders.

"Don't lie to me!" he hissed, spittle catching on his lower lip. She placed her hand on his chest and gently pushed him back to regain some ground.

"You think if I were working with Ra's or Red Claw I'd have stuck around here to play Watson to your Sherlock?"

"Then why did you stay?" he demanded. The question hung in the air between them.

"I don't work with terrorists or crazy megalomaniacs set on world domination. They're above my pay grade," she said, changing the subject. She dropped her hands to her sides and looked into his cowled face, her eyes cold, but open. She was offended by his line of questioning but she was telling him the truth. She wasn't involved. Or if she was, she didn't realize it.

"Your Italian business associate mentioned the exhibit to you, didn't he?"

"In passing, but he always mentioned Gotham-" she said, breaking off. Eyes wide, her mouth dropped open as it hit her. "I was set up."

"You didn't have to tell anyone you were going after the ruby, anyone who has studied you would know you couldn't stay away from a score like that. Fake Brian Anders was sent to ensure your associate planted the information."

"It doesn't make any sense."

"Actually, it does. You were supposed to take the fall for the missing biotoxin, thus diverting Red Claw's attention from Sera and the cops' attention from the museum staff."

"The silent alarm," she said, her eyes closing and her head drooping toward the floor. "How could I have been so stupid?"

"This isn't your fault, Selina," he said, stopping himself from placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "If it's any consolation, I believe Red Claw was mislead as well."

"How do you figure?" she asked. He took a deep breath before continuing.

"I believe Ra's wanted to steal the biotoxin but wanted to make sure it wasn't immediately obvious that he was behind it. The reason he roped Red Claw and you into this is because he wanted to ensure I wasted time trying to unravel this whole blasted mess. Which is exactly what I did."

"This is all about you?" she asked, incredulous.

"I know how it sounds. But I have a...history with Ra's. And the League. He'd want me to know what he'd done. Which is why he had his associates use a corrosive with a compound only found in Lazarus Pits." Looking away from her he focused on gathering up the canvas bag. She was silent for several moments.

"I get why he picked Red Claw - she's a terrorist and would have an interest in biological weapons. But...why'd he pick me...?" she trailed off, her voice quiet.

That was something he couldn't answer so he said nothing. He didn't want to contemplate why Ra's would drag Selina into this - was it because Ra's knew how he felt about her? But how?

"You're going after him." It was a statement. She didn't need to ask because she knew. "I'm going with you."

"Selina -" he began.

"I'm not sitting idly by while you run off and get the answers that I want." He grabbed her gently by the arms.

"Ra's is dangerous. If he really did set you up, you should be dead right now. You're not because something went wrong. He would not hesitate to try and kill you again."

It was moments like these that he wished she could see his eyes instead of the lenses in his cowl. She would be able to see just how important it was that she stay behind. He couldn't be responsible for her death, not now, not ever. Not after everything they'd been through in the last few days, what with their easy camaraderie and enjoyable connection. Working with her felt natural. It felt right.

She gently grabbed his forearms and looked at him much as she had in the Batplane.

"I can help you."

"It's too risky-"

"Ra's al Ghul is a dangerous psycho with a God complex. If he really has that biotoxin, he could kill an untold number of people. He needs to be stopped."

She was so sincere, so open. Despite everything, he believed her. In that moment, he understood her better than he ever had before. As different as they were at times, on a fundamental level, they got each other. They got each other in a way he'd never experienced with anyone else, not even Alfred or Dick. His hand twitched, longing to brush her cheek, to bring her in for a kiss.

He shook his head and disentangled himself from arms, putting distance between them.

"I'll drop you back in Gotham before I leave," he said before stalking away, his cape bunched in his fists.

"You're only one man. The League is an army. You're good, but even you can't survive against that many trained goons. You need my help and I need answers."

"It's too dangerous!" he said, spinning around to face her.

"You think I can't handle myself? Like I need you to protect me?" she snapped.

"You don't understand-"

"Explain it to me!"

He was silent.

"Oh, I get it. You demand honesty from everyone around you and then freeze up when it's required of you."

"Why'd you leave Gotham?" he shot back. She had kissed him to avoid answering that question before.

"I'm coming with you," she said, changing the subject. "And don't tell me I don't understand. I understand a hell of a lot more than you think...Bruce."


End file.
